


missing

by thexfilesbabe



Category: The X files
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Post My Struggle III, Season 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 04:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thexfilesbabe/pseuds/thexfilesbabe
Summary: short drabbles/missing scenes in season 11





	missing

They pull up the drive to the house. It’s dark, but the porch light reaches across the front yard’s patchy grass, creaky front steps. She sees the porch swing swaying in the evening breeze. As he exits the vehicle, she remains in her seat. Usually she’d put up a fight, push through the pain, refuse to let him see her too weak to even heave herself from the passenger seat. Instead, she rests her head on the black leather of the seat, waiting. She allows his arms to lift her from the car, to support her weight as she limps up the steps, relishes the weight of them around her waist.

He deposits her on the couch with a soft, “I’ll get you some tea, Scully.”

She feigns a smile, her lip cracking open again while he shuffles to the kitchen.

It burns.

She tastes metal in her mouth, salt from her tears and bitter regret burning in the back of her throat that her life didn’t end on the floor of that fucking hospital room two hours and twelve minutes ago. She’s still here, still drawing ragged breaths through her bruised trachea, blood pumping through her battered limbs, thoughts racing through that injured, beautifully brilliant brain of hers.

“Her brain is on fire,” the doctor had said. In that room, she’d thought she was finally going up in flames, as she had always thought they would. She’d just never imagined that she would be burning down all alone, cold tile pressed to her shoulder blades, calloused hands pressed to her throat, a nameless man panting above her as he squeezed the life from her lungs.

She’s still here, though. Which means, she realizes, releasing a sigh that originates somewhere deep in her old bones, that she must continue to fight.

Another drop of blood pools on her cracked bottom lip. She runs her lip across it, catches it before it can fall. A rush of tears overtake her, surprise her, piss her off just a little. She huffs out a breath, something between a sob and a strangled laugh.

And suddenly he is there.

He’s standing just to the right of the couch, eyes wide and wet and red. He’s been crying, she thinks. A tear falls down her own cheek.

“I thought you were making us tea…,” she whispers, not meeting his eyes.

He says nothing, simply takes the seat next to her on the couch. 

Another tear falls and she doesn’t have the strength to try and stop it. Mulder, gently, as he does all things involving her, reaches out and brushes the tears away with the pad of his thumb. Her face softens. He cups her cheek. She closes her eyes.

They remain there a moment, still, each relishing the presence of the other. Then, Mulder’s arms are around her, lifting her battered body into his lap. His arms wrap around her, embrace her fiercely.

He whispers into her neck, “I was worried about you.”

She shudders as she breathes him in, adjusts to her new position, to his words. Pulling from his embrace, she rests her head on his shoulder, places her hand on his forearm and squeezes as she replies, “I’m okay, Mulder.”

He bends to kiss the top of her head, lingering there. She nuzzles into his chest.

They stay that way for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> i love constructive criticism, or just comments in general ! comment here or find me on tumblr @thexfilesbabe
> 
> this was written quick and dirty, no editing. more chapters to come xxx


End file.
